


The Dating Game

by Cinaed



Series: The Best of Carolina The Teenage Witch [17]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Alternate Universe - Sabrina the Teenage Witch Fusion, Angst and Humor, Background Relationships, Competition, M/M, Self-Denial, Speed Dating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-10
Updated: 2019-06-10
Packaged: 2020-04-23 18:45:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19156786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cinaed/pseuds/Cinaed
Summary: Simmons, Tucker, and Church are all unlucky in love.





	The Dating Game

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks goes out to Aryashi for looking this over for me! 
> 
> The background relationship is Doc/Donut. We'll see how long it takes for Simmons to figure that out. 
> 
> A bit of a breather from the last episode. :) And wow, we're in the home stretch for season two!

At the beginning of the summer, Donut gave Simmons an open invitation to his bimonthly Wine and Cheese Hours. After the incident with Felix’s knife, Simmons is desperate enough for a distraction to accept it. It’ll take his mind off the knife miming stabbing Carolina to death, something that makes him queasy every time he thinks about it.

Wine and Cheese Hour seems to mostly consist of Donut and DuFresne cheerfully catching him up about their summer over a nice spread of cheese and a few bottles of wine, with Whiskers moving from one lap to another. Apparently Donut and DuFresne had a spa day, and then spent two weeks in July on a cruise.

Donut’s apartment is both what Simmons expected and completely surprising. He knows about Donut’s love of color, so the dark red accent wall isn’t a shock, and about Whiskers, so he expects all the cat toys and scratching posts that occupy the space. He wasn’t expecting any farmhouse vibes, though Donut has mentioned once or twice he came from Iowa. Simmons tries not to stare too obviously at the steel windmill decorating the wall and the hand-stitched patchwork quilt draped on the back of the couch, and at the general half-rustic, half-artistic vibe.

“I’m _so_ glad you came to Wine and Cheese Hour. Not that it’s not fun with just Frank, but I always say the more the merrier,” Donut says, topping off Simmons’ glass. “Sometimes Lopez drops in! And Sarge does too, but he’s visiting his mom this week.”

Whiskers is curled up on Simmons’ lap, idly kneading Simmons’ thighs. It’s a little weird to interact with an actual cat. Simmons doesn’t really know what to do. He ends up scratching Whiskers under the chin since that seems like a safe bet.

“And how about you?” DuFresne asks. “I hope you’ve been having a good summer.”

Simmons’ smile freezes on his face. He thinks about the family reunion, his successful spells, Felix's threats towards Carolina, his beach trip with Grif. He laughs, and it must sound a little strange because both DuFresne and Donut blink at him. “It’s, uh, had some highs and lows.”

Donut looks curious, his eyes lighting up. Clearly forcing himself not to grill Simmons, he says, “Oh, really? Well, what’s talked about at Wine and Cheese Hour stays at Wine and Cheese Hour, if you need to vent!”

Simmons drinks some wine to buy himself some time. He imagines explaining magic and the anti-mortal Witches Council and the fact that the recent explosion at the school was done by murderous witch fugitives. He laughs again against the rim of his glass. Yeah. That won’t work, even if he’d like to talk to another adult about the situation and not just Grif, who seems to think just keeping their heads down means the situation has been handled. He says diplomatically, “Thanks. Uh, maybe I’ll take you up on that sometime.”

Donut sighs. His disappointment doesn’t last very long, though, because he almost immediately brightens. “Oh! You’ve heard about the community center needing a new roof, right?”

“Uh, yeah,” Simmons says, lying. He feels a little guilty. For all that he’s lived in Westbridge for over a year now, he hasn’t really made the town his home. His stomach twists, remembering the continuing silence from his entire family. He probably should work on setting down roots.

“Well, we’re setting up a speed dating event as a fundraiser,” DuFresne explains. “I’m organizing the food through my favorite local vegan place, and of course Frank is getting the wine. It’s twenty-five dollars per person, and we were thinking we’d give everyone a little questionnaire--”

“I’ll sign up. You said twenty-five dollars?”

Donut chokes on his wine.

DuFresne stares, his eyebrows raised.

Something in their expressions make Simmons bristle defensively. Speed dating for charity is a good way to be a part of the community, isn’t it? And while he doesn’t need to prove himself to his father anymore, he remembers the way he looked whenever Simmons came to an event without a date. Heat creeps into his face. Trying not to dislodge Whiskers from his lap, he reaches for his wallet. “Twenty five dollars, right? Do you pay when you sign up, or when you show up?”

Donut’s face has gone through a couple different emotions, none of which Simmons can decipher, as Simmons talks. Then he says, “Oh. Uh. We were actually hoping for help with organizing, but if you’re that excited, of course you can sign up! And, uh, we have the sign-up sheet somewhere around here, Frank, could you…?”

Simmons almost backtracks as DuFresne searches. He could make the misunderstanding into a joke, volunteer to help with the organizing after all. But his pride is still smarting at the surprise in their faces. Does he really look like someone who would never try speed dating? God, does he look like someone who’s never been on a date? His stomach twists. He keeps his mouth shut and distracts himself with his wine.

DuFresne finds the clipboard and produces a pen along with it.

There’s actually a decent number of people already signed up, though Simmons doesn’t look too closely at the list in case that’s an invasion of privacy. Still, he doesn’t think twenty-five dollars per person is going to get the community center that roof any time soon. He writes down his name and phone number, pretending not to notice the way Donut’s still looking a little surprised.

DuFresne says, “It’s Friday night, at the community center. It starts at seven-thirty.”

“I can come early and help with set up,” Simmons offers.

“Only if you want to,” Donut says. “No pressure at all.”

There’s something in his voice that makes Simmons think he’s saying something else. He hands DuFresne the twenty-five dollars and says, ignoring the way his stomach is still twisting nervously, “And, uh, the dress code?”

“We were thinking smart casual,” Donut says. He exchanges a look with DuFresne that Simmons pretends not to notice. “Whatever you’re comfortable wearing, really.”

DuFresne sits back down, picking up his wine glass. “Frank, tell him about the cat-sitter you had during the cruise.”

Donut makes a face. “Well, the short version is that we’re not using her again. Whiskers deserves better. The long version is--”

Simmons lets Donut talk about the cat sitter, who apparently didn’t follow directions. Though Simmons admits in the privacy of his own mind if he was cat-sitting and the owner told him that he expected at least one update via postcard from Whiskers during the trip, he wouldn’t have taken it seriously either.

When Donut finishes the story, Simmons says, “Next time you should see if David Washington is available. He’s a good kid, and he loves cats.”

“Oh, he cat-sat Grif for you!” Donut says. He looks curious again, though he doesn’t ask. “We don’t have any more cruises or long trips planned for the summer, but we’ll keep him in mind!”

Simmons decides not to mention Grif stowing away in his car and almost driving the kid to a nervous breakdown. Now that he thinks about it, maybe Washington wouldn’t thank him for suggesting his name to Donut.

DuFresne leans forward and nudges the cheese platter towards him. “Have you tried the vegan cheese? It tastes amazing! It’s made out of tapioca and arrowroot flours, if you can believe it.”

“Uh, sounds good,” Simmons says, and takes a slice. It looks rubbery, and he fights against a doubtful look as he takes a cautious bite. It actually doesn’t taste too bad, creamy and a bit nutty. And what’s even better, it’s a good topic change. “So is this made locally?”

“Oh, now you’ve got him started,” Donut says, but there’s laughter in his voice, and he’s smiling as DuFresne launches into a story that involves a commune and cruelty-free farming.

Simmons only half-listens. He’s relieved when the topic doesn’t circle back to the speed dating. Instead Simmons offers up a highly edited version of Pets at the Beach Day. DuFresne looks like he can’t decide whether he thinks it’s sweet that Simmons brought Grif to the beach, or if he's horrified by the entire thing and worried over animal safety.

“ _Please_ tell me you took pictures,” Donut says, and pouts when Simmons shakes his head.

 

* * *

 

When he gets home, Grif offers him a sleepy, “Have fun with your nerd friends?”

“Uh, it was okay,” Simmons says. He hesitates, wondering if he should tell Grif right away about the speed dating, and then decides to put it off for later. He doesn’t really want to see Grif’s reaction on top of Donut and Dufresne’s, however Grif reacts.

He moves to sit down on the couch next to Grif and blinks in surprise as Grif goes from half-asleep to wide awake, his fur bristling. Grif snaps, “Dude! What, did his cat crawl all over you?”

“Uh,” Simmons says. He looks down, belatedly noticing the orange car hair covering his shirt and pants. He swipes at the worst of the fur, though he knows he’ll need a lint roller to get rid of all of it. “Yeah, he sat in my lap.”

Grif glares.

Simmons rolls his eyes. “What, was I supposed to throw Donut’s cat across the room?”

“No,” Grif mutters. His tail flicks rapidly.

Simmons eyes him. Then he sighs and goes for the lint roller. It’s going to bother him now that he knows he’s covered in Whiskers’ fur anyway. When he sits back down, Grif immediately ruins all of his hard work by flopping across his thighs. He scratches Grif behind the ears and says, “You probably would’ve hated it.”

Grif blinks up at him. “Why? You can’t ruin free wine and cheese.”

“Vegan cheese,” Simmons says.

He’s expecting a reaction and isn’t disappointed. Grif groans loudly. “Ugh. I stand corrected.”

 

* * *

 

Carolina is excited for a few minutes when the waitress at the Slicery tells her that they’ve added salads to the menu. Then her order actually arrives. The salad is a limp, dry pile of romaine with a few croutons halfheartedly thrown in. If there’s any dressing, she can’t see it. She pokes at it with her fork and sighs.

She’s sighing again when Tucker complains, “Man, this summer _sucks_.”

Church snorts. “Oh yeah. Playing video games in your basement and not having to do homework is such a crappy summer.”

“Movies lied, dude! Where are our summer girlfriends? Summer’s supposed to be about dating, not watching you eat junk food and whine about acne.”

Connie rolls her eyes. “And whose fault is it that you’re single?” 

“I could totally get a girlfriend!” Tucker snaps defensively.

“Uh huh.” Niner leans across the table, her chin propped in her hand, and gives him a dangerous grin. “Didn’t you ask every girl in our grade out in eighth grade for the last school party?”

Tucker’s scowl freezes in place. “Not.... _every_ girl....”

Connie nods. “Oh yeah, just the ones you thought were hot.”

Church snickers. “Seriously?”

“Yeah. He even asked South out.” Niner’s grin widens. “It was amazing.”

“I’m still surprised he didn’t burst into flames,” Wash adds.

Tucker shoots him a betrayed look. “Come on.”

“Wow,” Church says, amused. “Sounds like you know how to make a girl feel really special, Tucker. I just don’t get how you’re still single.”

“Oh yeah, like you could get a girlfriend before I could,” Tucker shoots back. “The only girl you spend any time with is Carolina.”

“Yeah, Carolina is awesome,” Caboose says, blinking puzzled eyes at Tucker.

Carolina stops prodding at her pathetic salad to say, “Thanks, Caboose.”

She glances at Church, but he’s not even looking at her. Her stomach sinks. He’s been giving her the cold shoulder all week, other than occasionally opening her door, peering inside, and making a big show out of being glad that Felix hasn’t changed his mind and attacked her again. She invited him to the Slicery as an olive branch, but he’s still ignoring her. She frowns and goes back to poking at her salad.

“I could totally get a girlfriend before you,” Church says.

Niner snorts. She’s still got her chin propped in her hand. Now she gives them both a long, skeptical look. “You think you can get a girlfriend? You guys probably can’t even get a girl’s _number_.”

Both Church and Tucker glare at her.

Niner grins again. “I’ve got an idea. Church versus Tucker. Whoever gets the most girls’ numbers wins. Loser has to buy the entire table pizza.”

“This sounds fun,” Carolina deadpans, pushing her salad away. Beside her, Wash grins sympathetically in her direction.

“Deal,” Church says, a split second before Tucker does. He glances around at the half-empty Slicery. “But we should do it on the weekend, when there’s more girls around.”

“Great, more girls for you guys to annoy,” Connie says flatly. When Niner rolls her eyes, she crosses her arms and stares between Church and Tucker. “But no fake numbers. I’ll check. Cheaters have to buy everyone pizza for the rest of the summer.”

“Who’s gonna cheat?” Tucker says, looking offended.

Wash leans over. “This should be fun,” he whispers to Carolina.

Carolina wants to laugh, but Church’s continued cold shoulder sours her amusement. “Yeah.”

 

* * *

 

“Smart casual,” Simmons mutters, smoothing a hand down his shirt. His reflection looks vaguely panicky, which doesn’t help his nerves. How casual is casual? He imagines himself walking in over-dressed and getting weird looks. “What does that even mean?”

“No idea,” Grif says. “But no ties.”

Simmons makes a face. He settles on a blazer and ignores the feeling that he’s made the wrong decision. He tries to distract himself. “Are you really coming with me?”

“Dude, I wouldn’t miss this for the world,” Grif says. “I have to see this train wreck for myself.”

Simmons scowls. “Thanks for the support.”

He knows it’s weird to show up with Grif in tow, but he also knows from past experience that Grif has a way of coming along even when Simmons doesn’t want him. He’d swear it was magic, except he knows it isn’t. Still, he flushes in embarrassment at Donut and DuFresne’s expressions when he carries Grif into the community center. “I, uh, couldn’t find a cat-sitter?”

“You need a cat-sitter for a few hours?” Donut asks.

“Uh,” Simmons says, unprepared for this reasonable question. In his arms, Grif makes a low, rumbling sound that’s not quite a purr but probably a repressed laugh. He frowns down. “He tried to get into chocolate earlier, and I didn’t want to worry about him.”

“Oh,” Donut says with an understanding smile. He shakes his head and wiggles a finger in Grif’s direction. “Oh, you were a bad kitty! Don’t worry Simmons like that. Chocolate will make you sick!”

“Meow,” Grif says. It’s one of the most sarcastic meows Simmons has ever heard.

“You can put him in the office,” DuFresne suggests.

“So you’re really doing this,” Grif says when Simmons sets him down on the office desk. He doesn’t immediately sit, instead perching at the edge of the desk. His ears flick sideways as he stares.

Simmons pretends to misunderstand Grif’s surprise. “Leaving you in the office? Yeah. Pretty sure no woman is going to want to date a guy who brings his cat everywhere.” He tries to laugh, but his throat tightens on the word date.

Grif’s quiet for a second. Normally his face is expressive, but right now Simmons can’t read it at all. He’s probably just trying not to laugh. Then he snorts. “Whatever. Just bring me some food. None of the vegan crap though.”

“Pretty sure it’s all vegan food,” Simmons says, and leaves as Grif groans.

He helps with the setup of the room, smoothing a hand across the table cloths like he’d checked for wrinkles on his shirt. It’s a good distraction from the nerves roiling his stomach. Nerves, and frustration at himself. He agreed to this because it was a normal thing people do and because it would be a good distraction from the Felix and Locus stuff. What does it say about him that he needs a distraction from his distraction?

By the time the speed dating starts, Simmons is so tense his shoulders ache and he’s sweating in his blazer. He barely hears Donut’s cheerful explanation that everyone gets eight minutes to chat and that the men will have to move to the chair on their right whenever the bell rings.

The first bell makes him start. He clears his throat as the woman across from him laughs. He can’t tell if she’s laughing at him. She leans forward, smiling. “This is a little weird, right? But I figured it was worth a shot. I’m Betty.” She extends a hand.

Simmons stares blankly at her hand, acutely aware that his hand’s probably sweaty. “Hi, um. I’m Dick,” he mutters, the words coming out in a rush. He takes her hand, gives it a quick shake, and then drops it. He tries to remember all the questions he prepared and comes up with, “Uh, so what do you do?”

“Manicurist,” Betty says with a wiggle of her fingers. The nails are painted a bright red.

“Oh. Uh. Cool?”

 

* * *

 

The Slicery is much busier on a Friday late afternoon. Carolina and the others actually have to wait a few minutes to get a table. It probably doesn’t help that somehow York caught wind of this and decided to tag along.

This time Carolina’s smuggled her own food into the place. She pops a cherry into her mouth and ignores the waiter’s weird look. It’s not her fault their food is gross.

“Okay,” Niner says. She stares at Church and Tucker. She actually looks serious, like this is a genuine competition and not just everyone being really, really bored. “Just a reminder, whoever gets the most girls’ numbers--”

“Or any numbers at all,” Wash says, grinning. Connie snickers and high fives him.

Niner ignores the interruption. “--wins. If either of you cheat, you automatically lose and have to buy everyone a weekly dinner at the Slicery. So no fake numbers, or getting the numbers under false pretenses or anything like that--”

Tucker rolls his eyes. “False pretenses? What does that even mean?”

“It means you can’t say you’re getting the girl’s number for York or Caboose,” Connie says.

York blinks at that. “Why would--”

“Chicks dig jocks,” Niner deadpans. “So I’ve heard, anyway.” She gives the guys of the group a skeptical look.

“Hey, I’m a jock,” Wash says. The skeptical look zeroes in on him, and he looks both amused and vaguely offended. “I am!”

“Dude, just playing sports doesn’t make you a jock,” Tucker says. As Wash frowns and looks ready to protest, Tucker squares his shoulders and nudges Church with an elbow. “Ready to lose, Church?”

Church smirks. “I’m ready to watch you get a drink thrown in your face.”

“I hope so,” Connie mutters under her breath.

“Good luck, Church!” Caboose says earnestly. He gives Church a big, encouraging grin.

“Thanks, Caboose.”

“Okay, go get ‘em,” Niner says and waves a hand towards the crowded room.

 

* * *

 

Grif really doesn’t understand what’s happening.

On the one hand, this whole speed dating thing is hilarious and a terrible idea. Simmons looked like he was going to pass out just from choosing his clothes. What’s he going to do when he actually has to talk to ten women in a row? On the other hand, Grif feels like he’s missing something, and it’s weirding him out. Since when does Simmons want to date? He’s never expressed an interest before, and now all of a sudden he goes from no dating to throwing himself into this speed dating deal? Grif doesn’t get it.

Plus, he isn’t exactly thrilled at the idea of Simmons bringing home some girlfriend. The woman will coo at Grif and baby-talk him. Or she’ll dislike cats. Either way, he’ll have to keep his mouth shut. The idea of having to play-act as a real cat for someone constantly there makes his skin crawl and his fur bristle. He prowls restlessly through the cluttered office before his curiosity gets the better of him.

There’s some grumbling at the Council for the lack of opposable thumbs involved, but eventually he gets the door open. When Grif sidles into the main room, a bell rings and Donut’s cheerful voice calls, “All right, guys, change partners!” He sticks to the wall and keeps still, but everyone’s too busy moving and talking to notice him.

Simmons is easy enough to spot. He almost knocks over his chair trying to sit down. His uncomfortable laugh rises over the chatter. His tense smile and visible sweat is visible even three tables away. Grif can’t make out what he’s saying, but his body language screams that he’s uncomfortable.

Grif inches along the wall, trying to listen in.

“I’m Midge,” the woman says, offering Simmons a smile.

Simmons grimaces and the woman’s smile fades as he gives her hand a quick shake. “I’m, uh.” He pauses, and Grif has a full five seconds to wonder if Simmons is so nervous that he’s forgotten his name before Simmons says, “I’m, uh, Dick.”

Grif almost puts a paw over his eyes as poor Midge asks, “So, Dick, what do you like to do?” and Simmons stares at her like he’s never done anything in his life and he’s been born, raised, and will probably die in this sad community center. When Grif gets closer, he realizes Simmons’ hair actually looks darker than usual, damp with sweat. Between that and his pallor, he looks almost as bad as when he’d been half-conscious after rescuing Carolina and Church.

Grif was expecting a train wreck, but somehow it’s even worse than he imagined. He feels a little guilty about the relief that hits him when he realizes that the likelihood of some stranger invading the apartment is probably less than zero.

“So,” Midge says doggedly. Simmons’ awkwardness is infectious, because her smile now seems fixed on her face. She fiddles with a little scorecard and taps her pencil against it. “Um, have you traveled anywhere interesting lately? I went to New York with a few girlfriends last month. We saw a show on Broadway.”

Simmons doesn’t say anything for a second, and Grif wonders if he’s going to just sit there mute for however long each date lasts. Then he coughs and says, answering the first question like his brain is on some time delay, “Science! I teach science.” He doesn’t elaborate, but ridiculously looks relieved, like this is one of the better conversations he’s had so far.

Grif really does put his paw over his face this time. Seriously, this is just _sad_.

He doesn’t even protest other than a quiet, surprised squeak when hands close around his stomach and an unfamiliar voice murmurs, “You must be Grif. Well, you’re going to distract Simmons, and um, he’s nervous enough, so let’s get you back to the office, okay?”

“Wow,” Grif says when he’s alone in the office again. “...Wow.”

 

* * *

 

The bell rings and Simmons flees desperately to the next chair. His relief is short-lived. A new seat means a new woman to disappoint with his apparent inability to small talk or to even talk at all. He wets his dry lips with his tongue and tries to smile at the next woman. He’s pretty sure it comes across as more of a grimace.

She’s attractive by any objective standard. Anyone with eyes would look at her and say she’s classically beautiful, like Ingrid Bergman. When she introduces herself as Faith, her warm smile makes her brown eyes sparkle.

If every other encounter so far has been any indication, that smile won’t last. He stammers out his name, and, in what feels like a miracle, actually asks her what she does for a living.

Faith laughs cheerfully. “Well, I mostly babysit for the moment. I just graduated from BU with an M.A. in Advertising. Banging down doors and throwing my resume at anyone who will read it right now. Fingers crossed! How about you?”

“I teach science.”

He blinks in surprise as she laughs again. “Really? In Westbridge?”

“Yeah, uh, Westbridge High. Chemistry.”

“Then you’ve definitely taught one of my sisters or my brother Michael.”

“Your brother--” Simmons stops. He looks at her again. There’s something familiar about her face. Not exactly in her features, but her brown eyes and the broad smile remind him of…. She’d mentioned sisters, too? Enough to be unavoidable? He says slowly, “Your last name wouldn’t be Caboose, would it?”

Faith taps her nose, grinning. “Bingo!”

Simmons is hit by a wave of relief. Just as quickly as the relief wells up, though, sour frustration twists his stomach. Why is he relieved by the thought that Faith is off-limits? Because she definitely is. Simmons isn’t going to date any of his students’ family. That’s just weird.

“So who have you taught? Let’s see, high school. That means Leah, Michael, and Naomi. Wait, chemistry. So probably Michael.”

“Yeah, Michael.” Simmons takes a breath. This is steadier ground, at least. “He’s a good kid. A little easily distracted and sometimes he gets lost in his own world, but when you can keep his attention, he’s bright. Apparently he signed up for Robotics Club for the fall, so that will be interesting.”

Faith’s expression warms. “Yeah, he’s always liked machines. He took our microwave apart once, to see how it worked.”

“I’m sure your mom was thrilled,” Simmons says dryly.

He starts as Faith snaps her fingers. “Wait! Chemistry? You’re his teacher that set himself on fire! Yeah, Michael likes you. He said you were nice and didn’t mind explaining things when he forgot to listen.”

“Oh,” Simmons says, wavering between embarrassment that apparently more people knew about the burned cardigan incident than he thought and flustered pleasure that Caboose liked him. For the first time since he started picking out his outfit for tonight, the tension in his shoulders ease slightly and his smile feels real. “I’m glad he enjoyed my class.”

“He did,” Faith says. She laughs again. “I wrote a list of questions to ask. I guess I don’t need to ask you where you’ll find yourself in five years? Probably still teaching, right?”

“Unless I do something very wrong. How about you?”

“Working for Coca Cola,” Faith says. She grins. Simmons is ninety percent sure that she’s joking, but knowing Caboose there’s still that ten percent of doubt as she drops her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “I want to meet the polar bears.”

 

* * *

 

“Yikes,” York says as a girl laughs in Tucker’s face and her group of friends laugh too. “I thought this would be funny, but honestly it’s kind of depressing?”

“Yeah,” Wash agrees. He waits a beat. “Think we should be taking notes on what not to do?”

Weirdly, York flushes a little at that, darting a quick glance towards Carolina. “Maybe.”

Carolina offers him a distracted smile, but she’s mostly studying Church. She didn’t expect him to be good at flirting, but she didn’t expect him to be this bad. Both of the boys have been crashing and burning with every girl in the place, but Church’s attempts to flirt have just been...strange.

She watches him approach a girl and makes a weird movement with his body, like he started to bow and realized halfway through the gesture that would be weird. “Hello,” she hears him say. “May I, ah, have the honor of paying for your meal?” There’s a flustered edge to his voice, and for the first time in a while, a hint of her father’s accent. The accent vanishes in a grouchy, “Never mind,” when the girl blinks at him and says, “Um, what?”

The next girl he apparently tries for a direct approach. “Uh, hi. You’re...pretty?”

Niner laughs at the same time the girl does. “This is even better than I hoped.”

Caboose wanders over. He left the table around the time Church and Tucker began their competition. He says thoughtfully, “You know, I have been listening, and I don’t think Church and Tucker know how to talk to girls.”

“Oh yeah, and you do?” York asks, looking amused.

“Yeah, Caboose, tell us what women want,” Wash says.

“Well, they want to meet someone nice, who appreciates them for being them and not because they’re pretty, but because the guy really wants to get to know them. And the guys wants to learn about their interests and go to cool places with them and talk about the stuff they like to talk about. You know?”

There’s a long silence after this thorough and matter-of-fact explanation. Then Carolina breaks it, swallowing down a laugh as she does. “Did everyone forget Caboose has seventeen sisters? I think they’ve probably told him what they want from a guy.”

“Yeah,” Caboose says, nodding.

Carolina glances at the clock on the far wall. “Well, I really wanted to see someone throw a drink in Tucker’s face, but I’m going to have to leave in a couple minutes to get to the shul before sundown.”

Caboose blinks at her. “Oh, you need to go?” When she nods, he says, “Okay! I’ll give Church some girls’ numbers now so he can win.”

“Wait, what?” Wash asks as Caboose makes a beeline through the crowd to Church.

A second later, Church, looking puzzled but smug, returns to the table, Caboose following like his shadow. “Hey, Niner, what were the rules again?”

“You couldn’t give me any fake numbers or get them under false pretenses,” Niner says slowly.

“So if Caboose got them and they’re technically for babysitting jobs, but he told the girls he might show a couple friends their numbers, does that count as false pretenses?”

“Oh, that doesn’t count!” Tucker says, scowling. “Caboose got those numbers, not Church!”

A slow grin spreads across Niner’s face. She studies Tucker’s glare, Church’s smirk, and Caboose’s guileless grin. She tilts her head and nods to herself. “Yeah, okay. You make a fair point. But since Caboose got all the numbers I’m going with him as the winner. You both lose.”

“What?” Tucker protests loudly. “That’s some total--”

“He wasn’t even trying!” Church squawks as Caboose looks surprised.

“Yeah, I’m backing Niner up on this one,” Connie says. “Congratulations, Caboose.”

“This is crap,” Church says, scowling. Then he rolls his eyes. “Guess we’ll split the bill or something.”

Carolina hesitates. Church hasn’t talked to her once since they got to the Slicery. Is he going to be mad at her forever? She fiddles with one of the last cherries she brought with her and then says with a quick smile, “At least you won’t have to pay for mine?”

Church glances her way. He’s still scowling, but he at least acknowledges her with a muttered, “That’s something, I guess.”

“I’ll, um, see you after Shabbat,” she says, and leaves as Caboose says, still surprised but a little pleased too, “Oh, wow I won? I didn’t even know I was playing!”

“You weren’t!” Church and Tucker growl together.

 

* * *

 

Talking with Faith is a nice reprieve, but then the bell rings. It’s like Pavlov’s bell, except the sound sends a spike of anxiety through him, an unpleasant jolt that makes him start to sweat again.

“Hi,” the next woman says. She smiles quickly. When she drums her fingers on the table, he realizes that she’s nervous. She says in a rush, “Do you mind if we don’t shake hands? It’s not you, I just have a thing about germs. I teach biology, so we do a whole section on viruses, bacteria, and antibiotic resistance, so--”

“Not at Westbridge, unless Poole left,” Simmons says, unthinking, and then flushes. “Sorry! Didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“No, I was just going to ramble. And you’re right. I teach Biology at Seaside.” She tilts her head, curiosity lighting her face. “Do you teach at Westbridge?”

“Yeah. Chemistry, Physics, and I’m in charge of the Robotics Club.”

“Oh, that’s-- Wait. I forgot to introduce myself. I’m Kimberly.”

“Dick,” Simmons says. Some of his nerves settle a little. He can talk about teaching. That’s an easy topic. He tries to guess her age. Probably late to mid twenties like him. “So did you go straight into teaching? This will be my second year so I’m still learning.”

“Listen, this will be my sixth and the kids still find ways to surprise me,” Kimberly says with a laugh. She leans forward a little, smiling conspiratorially at him, and the panic returns as she says, “I heard about the goat prank. How many goats were there after all?”

She waits, still smiling, but Simmons’ throat tightens. Here’s a woman that sounds like a perfect match for him. She’s interested in health and cleanliness, she’s a fellow teacher, she’s someone who likes science. He should be excited and looking forward to a potential longer date, more than a scant eight minutes. Instead of a spark all he feels is the same anxious nothing he’s had with all the other women.

His stomach roils. “Uh,” he says, realizing that she’s expecting an answer. “I’m sorry, I don’t-- I think three?”

Kimberly laughs and says something, but he can barely focus on her. The panic grows until he’s got his hand clamped to his knee to fight against nervous twitching and there’s a faint buzzing in his ears.

This time the bell sends relief through him. He almost overturns his chair with a hurried goodbye to Kimberly. He doesn’t move to the next chair. He can’t. It feels like he’d be throwing himself down a flight of stairs. He says something to the next woman along the lines of, “I’m sorry, I’m gonna--” and bolts.

He walks past the office where he left Grif and has to backtrack. When he opens the door, though, he doesn’t see Grif. His stomach lurches again. Did Grif sneak out? Did he see Simmons crashing and burning like an idiot? “Grif?” he asks, and hates the strain in his voice.

“Uh, here,” Grif says.

Simmons turns to find Grif dangling in mid-air, his paws wrapped around the inner door-knob, his feet kicking and failing to brace against the door. Simmons blinks. He still feels too sick and panicked to laugh, but a bit of amusement breaks through. “Got bored?”

“I’m hungry,” Grif grumbles. He drops to the floor. “Starving, actually. I’m willing to eat _vegan cheese_ , Simmons. This is a new low.”

“So no objections to leaving?”

“Leaving?” Grif blinks at him. His whiskers go forward, which generally means he’s amused. Simmons braces himself for Grif’s sarcasm, his entire body taut, but all Grif says is, “Good. I really didn’t want to eat that vegan stuff. Can we order pizza?”

“Yeah, okay.” Simmons takes a second, hating the relief that floods him again at Grif’s easy acceptance that they’re leaving. Still, the idea of eating pizza with Grif sounds better than dates with any of the perfectly nice women he’s met tonight. He dismisses the thought as he bends and scoops Grif into his arms. “It’s probably not too late for a movie. We could swing by Blockbuster too.”

“I pick the movie.”

 

* * *

 

When Carolina gets back to the brownstone, she hesitates in front of Church’s room. She knows he’s still awake; there’s light spilling out from under the door. She knocks and then opens the door at his flat, “What?”

He looks guarded when she steps inside and closes the door. He’s sitting on his bed, a book in his lap like Grey or Kimball reminded him that they have only a few weeks left of the summer to complete assignments. “What?” he repeats, just as flatly.

She doesn’t try to step over the mounds of dirty laundry. At this point she thinks the laundry is just to annoy Grey and Kimball. It’s easy enough to magic the clothes into the washing machine. She shifts from one foot to the other. “I’m sorry, okay? I should’ve told you what I was going to do to Felix.”

“Yeah, you should’ve,” Church says. “So I could tell you what a _stupid_ idea it was.”

Carolina flushes at the way he spits out the word stupid. She came here to apologize and tell him that next time she won’t keep secrets from him, but she can’t help but say, “I couldn’t just sit around and do nothing--”

“Yes, you could! Doing nothing is literally the easiest thing to do!”

“Not for me!” Carolina says. It’s hard not to shout. “Felix and Locus were-- are-- out there, doing bad stuff, and I couldn’t just pretend I didn’t know. You are not obligated to complete the work, but neither are you free to desist from it, remember? I might not be able to put them back in jail--”

Church rolls his eyes. “Don’t quote _Pirkei Avot_ at me. I get it, okay? You got mad. But....” He stops. His jaw works as he clenches it. Carolina, about to keep arguing, stops. “Next time you’re going to do something dumb, tell me.”

“Okay,” Carolina says. She almost adds that she was thinking of at least scrying on Felix and Locus again, just to keep an eye on them, but she figures that’s pressing her luck. She smiles instead. “Sorry you didn’t win earlier. I was rooting for you.”

Church squints at her, like he thinks she’s joking, before he rolls his eyes again. His jaw relaxes, his shoulders loosening. “Yeah. I should’ve won. Niner and Connie are jerks.”

“At least you’re splitting the bill with Tucker. And you’ve got two allowances instead of one.”

“It’s still crap,” Church grumbles. “Caboose wasn’t even trying. Those phone numbers were for his mom!”

“I mean, I was rooting for you, but Niner and Connie were right. This way was funnier,” Carolina says, grinning.

Church makes a face. Everything feels almost back to normal as he says, “If you were rooting for me, that means you’ll help pay, right?”

“Uh no. Unless you treat everyone to something actually edible.”

“I don’t understand how you can hate pizza. You’re so weird.”

“ _You’re_ weird.”

 

* * *

 

The anxiety lingers like a knot in his stomach, but Simmons ignores it as he divides the pizza between him and Grif. “Don’t get sauce on the couch,” he warns, though he knows it’s probably futile.

“Uh huh,” Grif says, already pinning a slice between his paws and eating.

Simmons half-watches him. He’s going to have to call and apologize to Donut and DuFresne for running away. He probably messed up the whole thing, he thinks with a twinge of guilt.

“Dude, don’t waste food,” Grif says, sounding a little offended.

Simmons blinks. He looks down, realizing he’s picked a piece of garlic bread apart between his fingers. He drops the shredded bread back onto his plate. He takes a deep breath, but it doesn’t settle his nerves. The whole night has been a disaster from start to finish.

Speed dating must work, or else people wouldn’t do it. Simmons can tell himself all he likes that it was doomed to failure and that eight minutes isn’t enough to know someone well enough to want a real date, but he knows better. Just like he knew better when he told himself he was too busy with schoolwork to date and that he didn’t need any distractions from college. The excuse was flimsy then, and it’s flimsier now.

Maybe he's just not interested in dating anyone.

He starts as Grif flops across his legs. "Probably good you crashed and burned," Grif says. "Your girlfriend would make us watch chick-flicks. And you'd have to waste your money on cat food for me to pretend to eat while she was around. That's no way to live, Simmons."

Simmons debates arguing that he didn't crash and burn, but he knows it's a lie. He sighs. "Yeah." He scratches behind Grif's ears. Then he remembers Faith. "Hey, remember Caboose? His sister was there. Well, one of his sisters. I told you that he has seventeen, right?"

"Yeah, and I thought it was a joke," Grif says. "Mortals had that many kids back when you were lucky half of them grew up. What's this family's excuse?"

"Love, probably," Simmons says dryly. He tries not to get weirded out that Grif is probably drawing on his own observations of mortals over the last few centuries, and mostly succeeds.

There’s silence for a second. Then Grif asks, sounding genuinely curious, “Why’d you even sign up anyway?”

Simmons’ throat feels tight again; his attempt at a laugh comes out low and weak. He shakes his head. “I have no idea.” When Grif shifts a little, tilting his head back to blink at him, Simmons scratches him under the chin. “Ready for the movie?”

“Yeah,” Grif says. He settles more firmly in Simmons’ lap.

It probably says something about Simmons’ weird life that he loses all but a kernel of his anxiety at the familiar weight. Even if he’s apparently a failure at dating, at least he still has this.

He scratches under Grif’s chin one last time and then reaches for the VCR remote.

**Author's Note:**

> No Honorable or Dishonorable Mention this week, because instead we have the transcript of a deleted scene from this episode! Easy to see how it ended up deleted in good old 1998, with all the subtext and none of the text, but it's a great little scene anyway! 
> 
> DELETED SCENE
> 
> FADE IN:
> 
> INT. FRANKLIN DELANO DONUT’S LIVING ROOM -- LATE EVENING
> 
> Donut stands with his back to the camera, waving off-screen. Time has clearly passed. There are empty wine glasses on the coffee table and the cheese spread is mostly gone. 
> 
> DONUT  
> Bye, Simmons! See you on Friday!
> 
> Donut turns towards DuFresne, who is still sitting on the couch with Whiskers in his lap. They exchange a look of dismay. 
> 
> DONUT  
> Oh, noooooooooooo. I didn’t realize it was that bad!
> 
> DuFrense nods. He bites his lip.
> 
> DUFRESNE  
> I don’t know what to do in this situation. I mean, we shouldn’t try to tell him, right? That would make things worse. But...wow….
> 
> DONUT  
> I want to say it’s his business and not ours, but Frank, I’m in agony! 
> 
> Donut collapses dramatically onto the couch, making Whiskers jump off DuFresne’s lap to the floor. He frowns up at the ceiling. For a moment, both men are silent, lost in their own thoughts. Then Donut sighs and drops his head to DuFresne’s shoulder. 
> 
> DONUT  
> I guess we just have to let him figure it out himself and be here if he needs us. 
> 
> DUFRESNE  
> Yeah.
> 
> Another pause. 
> 
> DUFRESNE  
> Friday is going to be so awkward.
> 
> DONUT  
> So, so awkward. 
> 
> FADE TO: 
> 
> INT. DICK SIMMONS’ LIVING ROOM


End file.
